


ad infinitum

by Jaimeapollo (G4LL0WSC4LL1BR4T0R)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, disgusting nerds being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G4LL0WSC4LL1BR4T0R/pseuds/Jaimeapollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love is weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ad infinitum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackWingBecci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBecci/gifts).



Grantaire had dragged Bahorel in, talking about getting in some bar fight with a guy who wouldn’t leave a girl alone. 

“You should have seen this guy.” Grantaire says, sitting on the table next to Courfeyrac, gesticulating wildly as he tells his story. “He comes up behind the guy and says, real deep, ‘She said no, mate.’ So this guy turns around and looks Bahorel up and down, right? And he’s like, ‘I don’t know how any of this is your business.’ Which, like, he must’ve had a few drinks down to talk like that to this guy.” Grantaire jerks his thumb at Bahorel, a 6’6” Tongan man. He looked friendly enough now that he was smiling and laughing at Grantaire, but all the others could imagine how scary he seemed when pissed off.

“So Bahorel is fucking flexes his muscles,” Grantaire continues, “which, honestly, was like witnessing the second coming of Christ. Seriously, shit’s gorgeous. Anyway, the chick took that opportunity to get the fuck outta there and Bahorel just goes, ‘Yeah, she seemed real interested.’ And once the guy realized she’d gotten away he just turns and fucking swings at him. Which was hilarious because, like, the guy was basically built like Jehan. And Bahorel just takes it solid in his chest like a goddamn champ, and knocks him flat on his fucking ass. But he doesn’t see this douche’s four other friends coming up behind him so of course I had to get involved.” Grantaire grins widely at Bahorel who laughs, a loud sound from the stomach. 

“And you should’ve seen R here.” Bahorel says loudly. It devolves into a detailed account of the two of them recounting the fight, talking the other up as much as possible. Everyone there was laughing along with the two of them, enthralled with the story.

“So anyway, we end up in the same cell together and we get to talking and R told me about this group and, well, here I am.” Bahorel finishes up, sitting down between Feuilly and Bossuet, accepting a bottle of beer from Musichetta, who is just getting off her shift and supplying them with drinks. 

“So, what do you do when you’re not actively defending women from fuckboys?” Courfeyrac asks, leaning over the table eagerly.

Bahorel shrugs. “I’m a student part time and a cook at a cafe near my place part time.”

“What are you studying?” Joly asks from the other side of Bossuet.

Bahorel pulls a face like someone had instead asked how he felt about literally eating shit. “Law, man.” He says, almost mournfully. 

And like that, he was part of the group. He quickly became a regular, and he fit in well. Not only socially, but politically as well. He was loud and quick to voice his opinions, eager to help out where he could in whatever cause they were fighting for. He latched on to Feuilly, the two of them becoming good friends very quickly in their equal passion for the advocation for immigrant rights, particularly for refugees. At first, Enjolras had seemed wary of him, though he realized soon enough that it was only because Grantaire had been the one to bring him in. Grantaire, who, as far as he could tell, mostly just sat at the back and either slept through the meetings, or got excessively drunk and heckled obnoxiously until Joly and Bossuet would have to drag him away, apologizing for him. 

It was after one of those incidents that Bahorel first approached Enjolras. He’d been attending for about a month, and he knew Enjolras, though they had never had a one-on-one conversation. But now, Enjolras seemed worn down. He watched Joly and Bossuet pull Grantaire away, saying how sorry they were, but he just looked so pathetically resigned instead of angry, as he normally looked.

So Bahorel grabbed another bottle of beer and moved to sit next to Enjolras. After Grantaire was dragged away, it was normally only a matter of minutes before the rest of them left, and they were all already grabbing their coats and bags, so Enjolras seemed surprised when Bahorel sat next to him. But, still, he accepted the beer gratefully.

“Thanks.” Enjolras sighs, reaching up to push his bangs out of his face. It made his hair stick up oddly, but it was oddly endearing.

Bahorel waits to say goodbye to the others as they leave. He notices the long, meaningful look that Combeferre gives him even though he doesn’t actually understand what Combeferre is trying to say with it.

“So, what’s the deal with Grantaire, anyway?” Bahorel asks as the door swings shut behind Feuilly. 

Enjolras takes a long drink from his beer before answering. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he bothers to come or what he hopes to achieve with his heckling. He’s not even providing valid critiques! He’s just… He’s just being an asshole and I have no idea what he gets from this.” He glares at his bottle as if it were the offending man. “And I have no idea where I stand with him. Half the time I can’t tell if he’s insulting me or complementing me. He’s obnoxious and frustrating and I just… Ugh!” He takes another drink, this one more angry. Bahorel has never seen a man drink angrily before.

“I don’t think I know you well enough to say anything about how he feels about you and any of the others would probably be able to provide a more, um, realistic look into whatever the fuck is going on in his mind. But I can say for a fact that he likes all you guys. Well, he likes the others. He’s a good guy and I think his heart is in the right place, but he just…. I dunno. I dunno why he heckles you the way he does which, for the record, I am not defending because it really is a dick move of him. But….” Bahorel pauses to think for a moment.  


“Okay, when I was in the drunk tank with him, right? When he told me about you guys? When he was talking about the group he mostly just shat all over your ideals but he also made sure to tell me that you guys are pretty much his family. And, I dunno, do you ever just hang out with them? Because I think if you did that you would see what he gets from it. You know, before you come and start the meeting and shit, when we’re just sitting around and drinking. He really is a good guy, just also kind of a dick. And you’ve only been seeing the dick side of him.” Bahorel shakes his head. “I don’t know if that made any sense at all.”

Enjolras is looking at him contemplatively, then nods slowly. “So you’re saying I should try and get to know him outside of the group?”

Bahorel shrugs again. “I’m saying that he’s less of an asshole outside of it. But you know, do what you want.”

Enjolras smiles at him, a small turn of the lips but a smile all the same. “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve really talked, too. I should probably get to know you all outside of the group a little more. Well, besides Courfeyrac and Combeferre, of course, but I’ve known them since I was a little brat of a kid.”

Bahorel snorts. “Somehow, imagining you as a kid just doesn’t seem right. Or Combeferre, for that matter.”

Enjolras laughs at that. “Don’t let him trick you, he’s a huge nerd. Have you talked to him about moths? Because you should talk to him about moths. Or dinosaurs. God, just get him and Joly on dinosaurs and I swear they’re just like little kids arguing about which one is the coolest, only with more big words and scientific evidence.”

Bahorel laughs as well, rolling his head back and letting the noise fill the room. “Now that you say it, I can see what you mean. Last week ‘Ferre, Jehan, and R were going on about which font was the best for posters and flyers. Yearbook nerds, I swear.”

Enjolras nods. “‘Ferre was definitely a yearbook nerd. He was also in the paranormal club in high school, too. Used to drag me and Courf to all these supposedly haunted places. Courf was always so scared. He would cling to me, I swear. And ‘Ferre would have all his science equipment out to detect ectoplasm or whatever. We never actually made contact with any spirits, but he swears he and Jehan got in touch with one when they were using Jehan’s ouija board.” 

Bahorel taps his nose conspiratorily. “You know, I grew up hearing my grandmother tell stories of the spirits and gods. I don’t know how much of it is true, but one thing I learned very well is that you don’t fuck with the dead.” 

“Tell that to ‘Ferre and Jehan. They won’t hear it. Courfeyrac has been telling Combeferre he’ll get possessed or killed for years but it still doesn’t stop him.” 

“Has he tried ‘cursed’ yet? I find white people to be very scared of curses.”

Enjolras laughs, but shakes his head. “‘Ferre’s only white passing. He’s half Kenyan. And Jehan would probably only find that exciting. They’d love to be cursed.”

Bahorel clicks his tongue. “You keep strange company, Enjolras. Just make sure you’re not around when shit starts hitting the fan. You think you’re apartment is haunted, you call a fucking exorcist. Or call me, I’d be down to fight a ghost.”

Enjolras had been taking another drink of his beer and promptly spits it out all over himself as he tries not to laugh, which, of course, only makes the two of them laugh even harder.

After that moment, they became good friends. Bahorel with his loud, unashamed cheer became an easy presence for Enjolras. Together, they developed a habit. On any day that had been particularly hard for either of them, they would meet up and talk. At first it would be an angry rant about whatever had pissed them off, but it would soon turn into laughter and joking, leaving both of them in better spirits. 

When they were all cramming for exams, Bahorel often found himself begrudgingly stuffed between Feuilly and Joly on the small couch in Enjolras’ and Combeferre’s shared apartment. He would often find excuses to sneak out, though, which would always lead to him sitting in Enjolras’ room on the floor as the blonde spread out across his bed, nose buried in textbooks. They wouldn’t really talk at all, just a distracted ‘hello’, then Bahorel would sit down and pull out his phone to play a few rounds of 1010 before sighing and loudly and heading back out to try and study some more. He really fucking hated school.

It was almost three in the morning now, as Bahorel lifts himself from the couch and puts his own textbook aside. He’s stopped making excuses by now, and the others have stopped asking. Joly doesn’t even pause in quizzing Combeferre on some medical shit far above Bahorel’s head. When he comes into Enjolras’ room this time, though, Enjolras is passed out, face pressed into his notebook and the pattern of the spiral binding already being pressed into his cheek.

Bahorel smiles to himself and reaches out to touch Enjolras’ shoulder lightly. Enjolras starts under the touch, then looks up at Bahorel, blinking sleepily.

“Come on, if you’re going to sleep at least put your stuff away and get under the covers.” Bahorel says, starting to mark the pages and close the books on the bed.

“I really shouldn’t sleep.” Enjolras protests, though it falls short of effective as the last word devolves into a yawn. Bahorel ignores it entirely and continues putting the books aside. Enjolras watches for a moment, then nods.

“You should sleep too. You can take the couch if you want, you probably shouldn’t drive if you’re anywhere near as tired as I am.”

Bahorel shrugs. “I can go. They’re still studying in the living room, I don’t wanna shut them down early. Med students, man. Almost as masochistic as I am.” 

Enjolras rewards him with a tired laugh. “Then share my bed. It’s big enough.”

“Nah, I’ve been told I snore like a fucking truck.” Bahorel shakes his head. “I’ll be okay driving.”

Enjolras sits up and frowns at him. “I don’t want you to be driving. Stay here for the night. I’m a heavy sleeper, anyway.”

Bahorel feels his stomach do a small flip and he can’t help but smile to himself. “Alright, fine. As long as you don’t mind me taking my pants off. I can’t fucking sleep in jeans.”

Enjolras just lays down again, making a satisfied noise, which Bahorel takes as his cue to de-pants himself and crawl into the bed besides Enjolras. It wasn’t until he is laying down under the covers that he fully realizes how tired he is, and it’s not long before he and Enjolras are both fast asleep.

If when he wakes in the morning with Enjolras cuddled up against him, he might stay there for a little while longer. But who can blame him?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this wasn't what you want, but I tried! This was really fun to write, I had never considered this pairing before but now I love it! Un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own!


End file.
